


831

by AmputeeTrainee



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Time, Hand Jobs, Love Confessions, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Canon, Romantic Fluff, wait we're boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:28:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29436825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmputeeTrainee/pseuds/AmputeeTrainee
Summary: Every day, Charon arrived here to collect the newly departed, but another cadence had formed. The journey to receive souls changed. Including this instance, the shift happened exactly 831 trips ago.
Relationships: Charon/Hermes (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 117





	831

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MxTicketyBoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MxTicketyBoo/gifts).



> Happy Valentine's Day @MxTicketyBoo! Thank you so much for doing this fic exchange with me and spreading the love this holiday.♥️ I hope I did ya prompt justice: Charon and Hermes realize that they’ve actually been dating for a while now, but it’s never been explicitly stated.

Free-time wasn't a concept Charon believed in and still didn't to some stubborn degree. Something always needed doing. Whether that was ferrying souls, collecting coins, counting his growing hoard, or tending to his expanding side business. 

Down-time didn't really exist. One merely made room for additional activities. 

His attitude toward his work since time immemorial had always been steadfast. Charon was sure he had consistently performed his job with the same proficiency. The pace had just increased, and the reason for the change was two-fold. 

The addition of a new psychopomp among their ranks dramatically increased the number of shades that lined the shore. More shades equaled more trips through the Underworld. Simple. However, 'new' was a relative term. New as in some time since the shift in management occurred long after Hades had come to uneasily rule here. 

Lord Hermes joining them as a guide for the dead happened perhaps a decade ago, maybe several? Gauging the passage of time like mortals seemed to reference wasn't Charon's strong suit. He was quite good at calculating figures, but the sun and moon's turning meant very little in the Underworld. No, he had a different way to keep track of the intervals spent with his energetic associate. 

The second reason for the increased rate of his journeys through the Underworld's waterways was also simple. It made space for an additional activity: to see his whirlwind colleague. 

Charon rowed the empty skiff toward the Temple of Styx, the usual meeting point. The skiff docked with the same hollow thunk as always. He drifted effortlessly from the helm of his boat to the end of the pier as usual. It wasn't long before the temple doors opened, and the sound of wings beating against the wind greeted him. 

Every day, Charon arrived here to collect the newly departed, but another cadence had formed. The journey to receive souls changed. Including this instance, the shift happened exactly 831 trips ago. 

Hermes was, without a doubt, very consistent in his duties. The Olympian arrived unfailing to the Temple of Styx to guide the dead to the shoreline. But an aberration occurred once, and it had happened regularly ever since. On one occasion, Hermes arrived without shades, but not empty-handed.

On the first deviation, the flighty god managed to pester Charon into taking a break to play some strange mortal dice game. Hermes had free-time. The concept was foreign. The mere suggestion of taking a break from his duties to do something that frivolous was ridiculous. If there was nothing of worth to gain, why perform the action?

But Charon did.

That trip became the first tally—the start of a new normal. 

Charon hadn't remarked that seriously on the little god's comings and goings before, merely accepting them as another eventuality. Hermes's presence guiding and lining up shades on the dock in the Temple was just another constant. The outpouring of upper worldly news, stories, and gossip from the little god just as steady as the endless flow of souls they led. 

From then on, Hermes sometimes arrived without shades. The occurrences added up. 

2\. 3. 4.

The reasons for the additional arrivals changed but had a similar pattern. The god wanted to show him a new trinket. There was a recent flurry of activity above to share. Some new throwing or dice game had been invented. 

Hermes always had something brand new to show, tell, and share. The tasseled satchel his associate carried forever contained an endless assortment of curiosities—incense, jewelry, nectar, gems, dice, even a living turtle sometimes.

From the string of divine drama his associate aired, Charon gathered that the world above seemed to be in a chaotic state of flux that contrasted greatly with the eternal consistency of the Underworld. Or perhaps, that was merely the lively lens through which his spirited colleague viewed the world. 

Regardless, Charon found he didn't mind listening. 

26\. 27. 28. 

Charon allowed these strange but not unpleasant visits. 

He shifted his schedule when possible, drifting by the Temple more frequently. The stream of dead funneling into the Underworld ebbed and flowed like the tide. Sometimes more, sometimes less, but always constant. Their duties continued ever on in perfect rhythm. 

No one else seemed to notice that Charon and his Olympic associate paused their respective responsibilities every so often. These breaks created no bottleneck in their duties. What others didn't know wouldn't cause any harm. 

53\. 54. 55. 

Hermes was superb at filling space with words. While the majority of their conversations were relatively one-sided, Hermes asked questions. The messenger couldn't understand his every intonation like his closest family members could, but the energetic Olympian was persistent. The little god seemed to comprehend the general intentions behind the dry, rumbling sounds that left Charon with time. 

Charon tried to answer back in a way his colleague would understand and was not above charades. Hermes was very adept at solving puzzles, no matter the format. Enthusiasm and determination seemed to drive the Olympian harder to form a more consistent understanding between them.

From these little breaks, Charon came to learn that the talkative god was quite clever. Hermes station as a messenger made him very busy. While the winged god seemed to delight in all things lively and quick, the way Hermes sometimes complained about the vast requests of his divine family stuck out. 

Although his associate never directly stated it, Charon recognized that the other wanted a reprieve from the requests of the realms above. If these breaks were a means to that, so be it. These pauses together weren't a loss. Admittedly, what Charon gained in return was intangible and difficult to define, but the notion oddly didn't bother him. 

150\. 151. 152. 

Charon decided all these trips, all these strange moments between coworkers not strictly doing their jobs, had earned the Olympian something. His trust.

He shared with the little god he had a side business selling contraband to the Underworld citizens. The information led to Hermes proposing a deal: The messenger would deliver goods to his shop if Charon paid him by splitting the earnings gained from his portering. 

It took time to hammer out the details, but the side hustle proved to be profitable. It didn't take long before bolts of linen, bags of gems, and crates of nectar lined and overflowed the edges of the pergola beside the dock in the Temple. 

Charon was grateful for the vast array of goods Hermes brought and paid accordingly. While he watched his growing hoard of obols from their side venture with satisfaction, the mounting profits never outshone the moments spent in his associate's presence.

385\. 386. 387.

Hermes always arrived to do his duty, but their growing side venture altered the Olympian's schedule. His associate's comings and goings fell into a pattern that mirrored his own. Whenever there was a moment to spare, they met in the Temple. 

They traded, haggled. Played silly dice or throwing games that Charon swore Hermes was just making up half the time. Stories always flowed freely from the little god throughout, though his associate asked questions, probed deeper, tried to understand more about the world below and eras before. 

Having company became a new normal. Charon did not mind being alone, and technically rarely was. He interacted with shades daily, sold wares to the dead, saw his family and fellow coworkers on occasion, but no one was as constant or as memorable as his associate. 

He grew so used to the sound of wings beating against the air beside him, the streams of conversation, and the bright smiles that the moments in between his associate's visits now felt distinctly silent and dim.

644\. 645. 646.

Charon felt the cool rasp of ethereal fingers pressing payment into his hand every day. The cold weight of gold against his palm. His job, by nature, was incredibly tactile. 

Hermes became another persistent sensation. The barely-there brush of wings fluttering against his dark robes. The warm press of a palm against his shoulder. Playful fingers flicking the brim of his hat.

The little god enjoyed regaling where all his trinkets to trade came from. While exchanging goods, Hermes would flutter beside him, leaning a forearm against his shoulder while excitedly weaved tales about the latest trove of treasures. 

At first, the nearness and warmth made Charon self-conscious. He had never realized how cold his form was in contrast to another before. If Hermes noticed the temperature difference, he gave no indication. 

Instead, the flighty god made a habit of using his shoulder as a perch to lean against while conversing. Warm hands often gripped his upper arm to excitedly emphasize a point. Bronze fingers idly traced the engraving on his gilded collar. 

The closeness was strange initially—a contrast from the reserved customs of the Underworld. Regardless, if his associate wasn't uncomfortable, Charon decided he had no reason to be either. 

After a time, he returned these gestures, resting a hand in thanks against a bare shoulder or the small of a warm back while trading contraband. His associate never shied away. 

829\. 830. 831—

Their side business was incredibly profitable. Enough so that when Hermes arrived, his associate got him to concede that it would be a minimal loss to drink a single bottle of nectar together, again. Sampling his own wares was not a behavior Charon believed in prior, but his associate's teasing words and beaming smiles were persuasive. 

Taking time to make a voyage for two with no exact destination had once been an anomaly, but no longer. Charon sat on the bottom of the boat, back pressed against the centermost pew. Oar resting beside him on one side and associate on the other, he trusted the waterways' flowing arms to lead them smoothly through the lush fields of Elysium. The mist curling from the river shrouded him as his passenger. 

Even when sitting, Hermes excluded energy. The little god tapped his toes, flittered sunset-colored wings, and swayed to some unheard tune in his head as they passed the bottle back and forth. A bare shoulder kept brushing against his arm, but Charon didn't mind. 

"Oh, and another thing. Zeus is on a tear, I'll tell you what." Divine gossip poured from smiling lips as Hermes leaned closer and handed the bottle back. "He keeps trying to play matchmaker."

Charon offered a dry snort in reply. 

Heat brushed against his fingertips as he accepted the bottle. He sipped the nectar quickly, tipping the bottle back along with his head to keep from spilling. Sweet anise-flavored liquor washed briefly over his muted pallet.

"I know, as if the man isn't satisfied ruining his own relationships, he has to go and try to spoil others," Hermes quipped and sighed. "At first, he tried to get Artemis to see someone new, but after what Apollo did...well, I don't blame her for not wanting to take another lover. So once she fled to the woods again, he turned his attention to Kore, but the frosty look in Demeter's eyes—yikes! That's when I thought it best to check out of Olympus for a bit."

Charon gave a huff of laugher, mist curled past his bare teeth in a plume. After taking another sip, he handed the bottle back to his associate. Sunkissed fingers skimmed his own. 

"Thankfully, he's stopped trying to set me up with nymphs and mortals. I don't have time. Besides, I already have a partner in crime." Hermes pressed against his side, playfully elbowing him.

Charon let a thoughtful hum roll through his chest, then nodded. Hermes always seemed to poke fun at their connection but found he could never dispute the titles that half sounded like a jest. 

Warmth settled and stilled. Charon didn't move as his associate leaned against his side, save to shift his arm to rest it against the pew to accommodate the lean, compact weight. These moments were not new.

Hermes was loquacious, but every so often, it seemed like the god's quick mind pulled him into a moment of rapid contemplation. The little god's brows furrowed as his tan hands titled the bottle back and forth. 

"Aaaahhhhh…?" Charon rasped questioningly, fixing his associate with a steady look. 

Hermes did not stop fiddling with the bottle. 

"Um, look, I know I joke about the whole "associates" bit, but," The little god paused, head tilting up to give him a quick glance. "I don't do these things for anyone else."

Hermes shook the nectar back and forth once for emphasis and let out the breath that bowed bronze shoulders. The statement hung for a moment, incredibly nebulous yet accurate in countless different ways. 

Charon had to admit, Hermes was a singularity. He had never altered his schedule to see another soul with such frequency. Allowed someone to know about and participate in his side business to this an extent before. He had never let another be so close and touch him with thoughtless familiarity. Ride in his boat so often without payment. No other was permitted this level of leniency, trust, or consideration.

A murmur laced in a thick wisp of vapor escaped Charon as he contemplated these truths. Hermes nodded as if he understood. 

The flighty god shifted to place the nectar on the pew before them but didn't pull away. Hermes turned to face him, folding strong legs to kneel against the bottom of the boat. Warm knees pressed against the side of his cold thigh. Despite the additional height Hermes's posture afforded, lively dark-brown eyes had difficulty holding his gaze. 

"My mind tends to run things over and over, and usually, it's helpful. Keeps me on track," Hermes started, words quick and soft. "But recently. Well, for a while now, that bit has been occupied thinking about. Um, our, you know, our little side venture, our partnership. What to bring, what to show, what to tell you. I, I…"

Charon leaned closer, head tilting curiously and mist thinning. His associate was rarely hesitant about anything.

"I think about you all the time," Hermes confessed, wings fluffing and eyes darting to look up at him, then down to tan hands nervously knotting together on the folded lap. 

The words caused a surge of fondness to sweep through Charon. Sudden yet not all the same. The feeling had lingered beneath the surface for some time now. The admittance rang true—the little messenger was nearly always a presence. 

Even when gone, he thought of his flighty associate, absently counting the frequency of the Olympian's trips. The tingle of excitement when the buzz of wings stirred the air. How that brilliant smile made his chest ache pleasantly. How he couldn't help but admire the way lively dark-brown eyes shone with rays of gold when they caught the dim light. 

A low, knowing rumble rolled from Charon's chest.

His arm resting against the pew moved to wrap gently around warm shoulders, wordlessly expressing that the other was kept in his thoughts similarly. The gesture seemed to dispel the nervousness that suddenly gripped his associate, tense muscles relaxed.

"I... we're...we really are partners, aren't we," Hermes said, finally able to hold his gaze. 

It wasn't a question, but the words needed an answer all the same. 

Charon nodded, a whisper of agreement leaving parted black teeth. He reached his free hand forward, gently enveloping the warm, bronze ones resting on his associate's lap. 

Fingers immediately intertwined with his own and squeezed. Hermes lifted their hold, tilting his winged head to nuzzle a soft cheek against the back of his cold, grey hand. A smile that Charon swore could outshine the sun beamed up at him. 

"I'm glad you feel the same, associate," Hermes breathed against his hand. Fingers massaged into his calloused palm as lips pressed once against his middle knuckle. "Can I express my fondness more completely?" 

A puff of amusement left Charon because it seemed to him the little god was already doing that, but he nodded all the same. He had allowed his associate to pass so many barriers and become entangled seamlessly into his routine that Charon could not and did not want to deny the sweet request to be closer still. 

A golden flush dusted his associate's cheeks as the little god smiled and leaned nearer. Warmth let go of his hand to cup the sharp planes of his face on either side. Dark eyes seemed to drink in his grim features as hot thumbs traced the lines of sharp cheekbones. 

"I've been thinking about a lot of things," Hermes confessed before closing the distance.

Soft, quick kisses peppered down his sharp jawline. A low, pleased rumble escaped Charon, and he couldn't help but bow further into the flutter of affection. Gods, the little messenger was so warm, like the misty heat rising off the Phlegethon, but pleasant rather than scorching. 

Hermes edged closer, climbing onto his lap until strong knees braced against either side of his long, thin legs. Charon let his ringed hands wrap around the other's belted waist, completely encircling the tapering torso. A shiver raced down his spine as heat warmed his face and seeped into his cold hands. 

Hot breaths puffed against the cool, dry skin of his chin as Hermes paused to fix him with an intensely curious look. 

"Like, kissing you properly, breathing you in, for example—may I?"

Charon replied with a shallow dip on his head.

Delight flashed through those dark eyes. In the next instant, lips pressed against his bare inky teeth. Charon froze for a breath, feeling warm, persistent pressure against unyielding incisors. Kissing his lively associate felt warmer than drinking the strange herbal teas Nyx liked to brew and sweeter than the nectar he'd just shared.

Liquid heat dipped further, slipping past parted, black teeth to taste and tease the vapor diffusing into the air. Charon felt his chest tremble and let out a shaky sigh, spilling mist further into the mouth that eagerly breathed in his essence. 

Forever on the precipice of life of death, Charon's soul has a habit of making itself known: igniting the burning violet light in his eyes and exuding from his nose and mouth in misty wisps, only to recycle and rekindle in the center of him like an eternal flame. 

Living vapor pooled inside the little god's lungs. Entering another being in this way, Charon could taste the sweet nectar on Hermes's tongue. Map the contours of the warm, wet channel that inhaled him. For a breath, he could intimately sense the rapid beating of a swift heart and the burning affection that sang through the ichor pumping in the other's veins. 

He could taste, hear, feel the magnetic crackle of desire thrumming through the divine, metallic lifeblood flowing beneath tan skin as vapor permeated deeper into the softness of trembling lungs. Metal, whether it be coin, blood, or the approximate value of such things, always held a sense of worth, a sentiment, an impression. 

The intense longing that flowed in the other now swirled through Charon like a second sight, making his head spin. Warmth bloomed behind his breastbone, sudden and fierce. A deep groan of satisfaction escaped him, understanding his associate's enthusiasm more fully. 

Ringed hands tensed, pulling the deliciously heated body closer until a quivering chest rested against his own sharp sternum. He could melt into that warmth and the flood of emotion that threatened to sweep away all rational thought with it. He was a creature of greed, and if freely given the opportunity, would take and take and take—

Hermes pulled away a hair to let out a shaky breath, followed by a few soft coughs he tried to muffle discreetly with a hand. Bronze cheeks burned with a deep, golden flush as puffs of purple escaped plump, parted lips. Charon murmured lowly, kneading cold fingers apologetically into the small of his associate's back. Being understood so deeply was likely just as head-swimmingly euphoric to the little god as knowing was for Charon. 

Hot lips pressed back again a beat later, molten longing palatable in every inhale. Sunkissed arms warped around a chilled neck. Charon dared to skim a hand up the lean, muscled back to card ringed fingers through windswept hair, holding his associate nearer to be filled with his essence. 

A beautiful, hitching moan breathed from Hermes. Charon tasted the quickening pulse that seemed to mirror the rapture surging through his chest, losing himself in the sensation as heat seeped into his bones. Soon, Charon felt his associate's desire press firmly against the flat of his stomach. 

Hot hands slipped from their hold around Charon's neck to slide down the contours of his barreled ribs. Quick touches skimmed lower over the concave sides of his torso and past the sharp jut of bony hips, searching to see if he was similarly affected. 

Beneath all his layers, Charon was not made in his associate's complete likeness but wasn't so dissimilar. A groan rattled from his chest when the warm heel of Hermes's hand pressed and rubbed against the clothed hardness between his legs. 

Charon pulled back and broke their kiss, watching as a stream of purple vapor spilled past the other's parted lips. Hermes shivered, looking up at him with large, dark eyes, pupils blown-wide. Fast hands made quick work of parting dark robes. A deep cloud of mist escaped Charon as a heated hand took hold of his pronounced length, back bowing forward and off the edge of the pew at the sudden thrum of intense pleasure. 

A mischievous smile grew across Hermes's face. The little god licked the sunkissed palm of his free hand, tongue wetting the skin before boldly reaching down to press their lengths together. Vapor poured in a thick haze from Charon, unable to dam back the swell of desire as heat stroked him, pressed against him, and invaded his frame. 

Charon enveloped his associate in long arms. Leaning down, he let bare teeth graze the soft column of Hermes's throat before nipping softly at the hammering pulse point. Swaths of nebula spilled from him, licking and curling over bronze skin in waves. 

Hot words breathed past the shell of his ear, quick and airy. His associate said his name and another truth over and over. The little phrase fell from soft lips rapidly as Hermes worked them beyond the brink of completion together. 

The words didn't stop after wet warmth eased their last few thrusts. His associate even sighed the soft truth up at him again when they passed the peak of ecstasy and rested for a rare still moment in each other's arms. 

Even without a word, Charon understood exactly what Hermes was telling him. His associate had made 831 unorthodox visits to the Underworld to see him specifically. He'd tasted the desire that flowed through the metal in the messenger's veins. It all added up.

When broken down, the number 831 had another interpretation. 

8 letters, 3 words, 1 meaning: I love you. 

**Author's Note:**

> I realized after I wrote this that this fic is centered around English. Plug in a language going by the total number of letters, number of words, and one meaning = love, but I think the sentiment still holds.
> 
> Come say hi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/AmputeeTrainee). <3


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